Sylvaswift's Private Notes CLASSIFIED

BURNED

[i]Ri'sari give the Sugar Claw Stalkers a task:

Tryynity wrote

Ri'sari approached Sylvaswift in the middle of a Stalker meeting at the Tavern and spoke with him in confidence.

"This one believes the coin paid for the Clan Mother is not real," Ri'sari said in a hushed voice.
"Oh? What do you suppose we do about this?"
"We need to know the truth, either way Kazzah holds the key to the vault in which the Merchants hold their coin." A sly grin slid across the leader's face.
"This one understands your meaning."
Sylvaswift bowed, as was his custom, as the Clan Leader departed and then padded back to his trusted brethren and relayed the message Ri'sari had just given to him.

Sylvaswift returned to his assembled Stalker's and relayed the news to his brethren.

"Ri'sari has given us a task. Tomorrow at the Clan Mother's funeral you are to get around the ones attending and see what you can learn about the coin paid for the Clan Mother's release - Ri'sari believes it to be false. See what you can find out, information, proof, anything that can reveal the truth. Each of you have your contacts, seek them out those that you trust." Sylvaswift clenched his fist in the space in front of him. "They will pay, one way or another, this much I promise."



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The next day the Sugar Claw Clan and the Broken Bottle Merchants gathered in Woodhearth to attend the funeral of the slain Clan Mother. The Stalkers did as they were bid, & it occurred to Sylvaswift it was an opportune time to search the Manor while everyone was absent.

He wandered casually over to ((Ansaari's alt)) & whispered, "I will wait until the funeral begins and then I will slip away and go back to the Manor and search it, there is sure to be some kind of clue or piece of evidence that can prove Ri'sari's claim." ((Alt)) nodded subtly and Sylvaswift returned to eavesdropping on the crowd.

When the full numbers had arrived at the funeral location Ri'sari began to address those gathered and asked for anyone who had words to speak for the Clan Mother, to come forward and speak. Sylvaswift saw his chance at this moment and snuck away and ran quickly back to the Manor.

He picked the lock on the side door and began to search room by room, he was swift, methodical and very thorough. The first few rooms yielded nothing, there were many crates and barrels stacked in the lower rooms but nothing that looked out of the ordinary or suspicious. He rifled through paperwork, books on shelves and cupboards and still nothing. He had almost given up hope when he noticed an unusual sack on the lower shelf of a cupboard stuff behind some plain sacks. Sylva's senses peaked immediately and he bent down and retrieved it from its hiding spot. He examined the bag closely, it was made of a strange material, one he had not seen before, there was a intricate pattern that swirled around it, etched in an unfamiliar fashion. It was tied tightly at the top with a three-stranded gold cord. He loosed the cord and peered within. The substance inside was unusual in texture and gave off a strange odour. Sylva was sure it was something important. He quickly retied the cord and placed the sack behind his leather breastplate for safe keeping.

As he pondered the thought of searching the remainder of the Manor he heard the sound of a key being used on the front door. This was Sylva's cue to leave, he padded quietly out the door and down a passage which lead to an outer door. Quickly he opened the door and ran outside and along the stone verandah, across the grass and down the bank into the stream below the bridge and headed back to the funeral.

He hoped he had found something of use to Ri'sari.

Later, he showed the bag he had found to Sumar who examined it closely, Sumar was an alchemist and was able to identify the materials as Alchemy Agents used for trickery and illusion.

Sylvaswift beamed at his comrade. "This is good news, I will store this somewhere safe and return to the Manor for the gathering and wake. If possible search the remainder of the house, since we know now what we are possibly looking for. With your experience old friend, you are the best for this, yes?" The dark elf nodded and kicked his horse into a canter and headed to the Manor House, while Sylvaswift went to kitchen of his friend's place in Woodhearth and stored the bag in a small ceramic pot and then placed it inside a large basket and covered it will cloths. Contented it was safe he joined the others at the party.[/i][/s][/color]

Sylvaswift sat semi-alone in the cold silence of night, Sumar slept peacefully beside him having injected himself with his drugs. It had been a harrowing day, the Thalmor came, only two, but neither of them left. Sumar killed the first assassin inside on the steps of the Clan House and Ri'sari made an example of the second on the stone steps out the front. They had come seeking Ri'sari's life but took with them Ja'amore's instead. There was no justice in life, Sylva was well aware of this and Ja'amore's death proved it, for justice would have seen Ri'sari fall. The black Khajiit felt the loss of the little master more strongly than he'd felt loss in a long time, he had grown so very soft - that had to be remedied.

You failed him his mind whispered
"No!" Sylva muttered aloud.
Sylvaswift the great allowed an assassin to penetrate the confines of the clan.
"This is not true, I am not responsible for this, it was the guards who failed. Not I."
Failure!Rid Tamriel of one more piece of garbage tonight.Do it,

Sylvaswift growled and fled the room. Charging down the stairs he made his way to his horse grabbing a headstall on the way. He caught him easily and threw on the headstall roughly. In one smooth movement he swung up onto his back and rode out of the town, into the night - anywhere but here.

He should have taken Sumar up on his offer of something stronger than wine to dampen the effects of the day's horrors. He had refused, he saw drugs as a master of a different kind, but here he was controlled anyway. Perhaps he had fooled himself, into believing he had no master all these years.

He kicked his horse into a flat-out gallop, tempting fate, perhaps he would fall and break his neck, faster he urged. Heavy hooves pounded along rain dampened soil, he headed no where in particular - just away.

Sylvaswift rode for hours before his emotions came back under control and he turned and headed back to town, home. A narrow escape for him, normally it would have not gone that far so easily. He was normally adept at subduing them, but like he had already admitted to himself that he had grown soft. He had been letting people matter , his mind light travelled straight to Sumar.

Earlier he had hugged the man, even allowing him to fall asleep in his arms. If his associates saw him now what would they think of him? He would lose all respect in their eyes. Did that matter? These were the things he pondered as he rode back home. Home, he had never used that term before, and he wasn't sure yet he liked it. Sylva felt more strongly even now, than the days prior, it was time to move on - perhaps. Blue Skooma would make him incredibly wealthy now he had the receipe, he still had control in all the right places, perhaps he could relax now, and he had achieved a lot in his lifetime, at least the lifetime which had begun from the day of his freedom.

The sun peeped over the housetops of Sren'ja when he finally arrived back in town. He had gone a long way and his horse was exhausted and sweaty. He paid the stable hand a gold coin to see to him and headed up to the Clan House. All the regulars greeted him warmly, of course they did, he was Favoured of Ri’sari, the most favoured Sylva often said but of course, that was just his opinion of the situation. He drifted into the kitchen to find something to eat and kept an eye out for Sumar the whole time he stayed up in the Clan House, but he didn’t turn up. A tiny part of him was saddened by this. He busied himself with duties and idle chatter until it was time for the ceremony, Gnarlus had arranged some kind of ritual to occur with Ja'amore's remains. The clan wanted to pay their respects, Sylva did not understand the purpose of a funeral, once dead it was too late to say anything, the dead could not hear or care - they were dead. Still he did not wish to go, his own emotions still raw and barely under control, but go he did.

A very large crowd gathered, Sylva noted the lack of Ri'sari's presence. Hah! Sylva thought, weak with grief , he supposed. The ceremony began but he paid little attention to words spoken or gestures of grief made, he tried very, very hard to ignore the sadness around him, it reminded him of his own. He worked extremely hard at withdrawing, Sumar was still nowhere around to keep him present, and so it would be easy. Sylva kept himself a distance from the others; he would be there but not there. He did well, suffering the duration of ceremony relatively easily, up until the visions appeared that is, visions of Ja'amore. The creature Gnarlus had somehow caused some kind of magical apparitions; visions of Ja'amore's life had it gone differently the day before.

He saw, Ja'amore, addressing the clan with Kazzah and himself beside him. In this scene Ri'sari was dead, how it should have been. Another scene appeared, Ja'amore swearing revenge on behalf of his dead father, then an assortment of other scenes depicting various important things of his life. Sylva stopped looking when he saw Ja'amore making love for the first time, it reminded him of his first time, the innocence, and joy at being with someone so close like that... he would never have that. Something inside the black Khajiit snapped right then, he stood and left the crowd. A fight had broken out but he paid no attention to it, he had to go - again. Rawl'kha yes, that would do nicely, women, mead, whatever he desired, no clan, no death, just sex, and more sex. He would not return until he was fully sated.

Exhausted and a little hung over Sylvaswift stared up at the ceiling of his room, his two latest whores slept soundly beside him. For nearly a week he had been in Rawl'kha, every moment of that was filled with whores or booze, sometimes both. Sylvaswift felt much better than when he first arrived, his whoring had done the trick as he new it would, but as he lay there in the quiet of early morning new and foreign feelings began to surface. He didn't know what it was but suddenly he found himself missing Sren'ja and the friends he had made there. Sylva chuckled, friends, who would have thought he'd ever have friends...family, no doubt about it, Sylvaswift had gone soft and he was pining for home.

This was now one of those life defining moments, the jet black Khajiit had a choice to make now, go back or leave forever.

Sylvaswift wandered aimlessly around Rawl'kha market place, his mind mulling over recent news delivered by Khai. Kyora had gone and made herself a part of the clan and aligned herself with the companions, a desperate and futile attempt to gain Ri'sari's protection he imagined - a minor annoyance at best. Most troubling was the report that Sumar was missing, no one had seen or heard from him since the morning after Ja'amore's death. This weighed heavily upon Sylvaswift, he had been so consumed with his own struggles he'd left Sren'ja without a so much as a 'see you later', perhaps his friend had gone looking for him and found trouble. Neck deep in whores and booze he hadn't given him a second thought.

Sylva had opened up his heart just a crack but it was enough to make him vulnerable. He felt the loss of Ja'amore more than he would have expected, Sumar was much more than that. The black Khajiit called him brother, but he had not acted like a brother, or even a friend. Sylvaswift was beginning to face that he may be even more than that. His week with the whores had left him physically sated but he found after it all he was feeling empty - he had come to realise that, the space in his life is where the clan and Sumar now fit. Only after the grief dissipated did he begin to reflect upon what he had found in his newfound clan, he had thought long and hard and it was those good things, and Sumar, that made him want to return.

Now, what was he going back to ... more bad news?

Sylva arrived back in Sren'ja to find Risari leading a gathering of people, clan members he recognised and some new faces he didn’t. It appeared Ri'sari was leading a guided tour of the town - strange. As he neared he heard Ri'sari speak of repairs and workers, and he understood immediately what the crafty cat was up to - he renovating the town with free labour. Sylva chuckled as he scanned the area seeking out Sumar. He had hoped that by the time he returned to the town, Sumar would have also - but Sylva could not see him.

The black Khajiit hung back, not wanting to get involved in doing any labour, free or paid. He would put his time to searching for Sumar or at least for clues to his whereabouts, he dismounted his horse and set it free to graze.

He first checked out Sumar's digs, and found nothing; even his bag of goodies was gone. This lead Sylva to believe that perhaps he had left... maybe Ja'amore's death had hit the dark elf harder than Sylva realised, especially after his confession to him a few days earlier, it could have struck him a lot deeper given those facts.

Sylva went back outside, a horrible tight feeling in his neck, he searched for footprints, there were many but none distinguishable as Sumar's, given that the tricky mer seemed to be able to just vanish into thin air at a whim, Sylva knew it was probably pointless searching for tracks. Instead, he headed out of town, why, he did not really know, it just seemed like he should be doing something – looking, at least.